


good shoes

by Sotong_sotong



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Ambiguity, Dreams, Drowning, Drowning imagery, Kindred Spirits, M/M, Past Character Death, SASO 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 10:50:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7168091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sotong_sotong/pseuds/Sotong_sotong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hajime keeps hearing a voice calling for him in his sleep. He doesn't know who it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	good shoes

**Author's Note:**

> written as a prompt fill for SASO 2016, bonus round 2: images, for this [prompt.](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13854.html?thread=4964894#cmt4964894)
> 
>  
> 
> Inspired by Bakemonogatari, and ["Good Shoes"](https://soundcloud.com/cakesik/galileo-galilei-good-shoes) by Galileo Galilei.

_[Ha –( ___ )- ime- chan, (___ )- jime-c – ( __) - an]_

 

Hajime startles awake, as if he’s heard an echo of a past that comes to haunt him lovingly like the pestering of a best friend, but the reality is Hajime doesn’t have anyone like that. He grew up with the neighbourhood kids, and not one of them calls for him with such a fond lilt in their tones. Sure, they were alright to be around with, yet Hajime can’t find the spark in him to call them close either.

 

(They were just that: friends. Nothing more, nothing less, nothing anywhere near at all to be deemed as something special.)

 

The clock strikes three as Hajime gets out of bed and makes his way into the kitchen for a glass of milk to help him fall back asleep.

 

Unfortunately, it doesn’t help shake away the feeling of loss that follows him all the way down and back. It sticks to him, like a pin pricking the surface of his skin even as dawn breaks anew three hours later.

 

Hajime finds himself still struggling to drift off properly.

 

_[ —— isten to me.]_

 

He pulls a pillow over his ears, fervently praying for peace and no more ghosts.

 

*

 

Sometimes, he gets these dreams about a kid with brown curls and brown eyes.

 

He’s got the sweetest smile as well as the most curious eyes that seem to ask _when when when when do we meet_ , and Hajime isn’t sure on what to make of that. 

 

He’s never seen him before anywhere else in real life so Hajime’s stuck in a constant loop of wondering about the kid’s true identity: is he someone Hajime’s supposed to know?

 

Or is he just a figment of some deeper part of his subconscious?

 

(Once again, Hajime doesn’t really understand.)

 

*

 

Then, one night, he falls into the clearest dream of him yet.

 

The same kid’s sitting by a pond with his back turned to Hajime, a light breeze ruffling his brown hair as he pokes his toes into the sky-coloured water. The boy’s ragged shoes sit beside him.

 

“Hajime-chan,” he calls out pleasantly.

 

(He is a little afraid to move any nearer.)

 

“Hajime-chan, what are you wasting time for? Come sit here with me!” At this, the boy turns his body sideways so as to get a good look at Hajime, and he’s greeted with a toothy grin and warm eyes. The kid's wearing a cream hoodie with, strangely enough, alien head badges pinned to his sleeves. Unbidden, Hajime’s feet take him forward, stopping only next to the shoes the boy’s left aside. His heart beats faster.

 

“Hello,” slowly Hajime begins, “do you have a name?”

 

The boy wrinkles his nose when he looks up at Hajime, scoffing, “Are you an old man, Hajime-chan? Don’t you remember me?” When Hajime keeps silent, his voice dims in its brightness. “Not even one bit? Not even at all?”

 

Hajime’s never felt worse seeing his downcast face. He crouches down and holds out a hand to shake, gently saying, “I’m sorry that I don’t, but, it’s nice to meet you anyway. My name’s Iwaizumi Hajime, what’s yours?”

 

(The pond’s water shimmers strangely as ripples form on its surface indiscriminately.)

 

The other merely stares at his outstretched hand for long moments before grabbing it. He squeezes it, ever so tightly. “My name’s Oikawa Tooru.” Oikawa’s lips then pull into a bittersweet grin; the alarm bells in Hajime’s head go blaring. “And I’m the childhood friend you’ve never had.”

 

Hajime feels wetness lapping at his legs, heart leaping to his throat when he realises the pond beside them’s flooding over, struggling as everything about him, the boy, this dream turns _blue, blue , blue_ —

 

The last thing he sees is Oikawa’s shoes floating away –inch by inch— as Hajime goes under. 

 

They had green stains on them.

 

_[They’re such good shoes, aren’t they? Ha – ji – me— ]_

 

*

 

Hajime wakes up on the floor instead of his bed, sweaty and heaving.

 

(He still feels the whispery sensation of water trickling down his throat and into his lungs, filling its chambers up until he can’t breathe.)

 

Hajime thinks he knows himself, but apparently, somehow, there’s someone out there who knows him better.

 

What an oddity.

 

*

 

“Oikawa Tooru?”

 

His mother’s eyes widen when he first mentions that name to her, and she stops stirring the stew boiling inside the pot on the stove. Her expression is pinched. “How do you know about that name?”

 

Hajime grunts noncommittally, and slides his chopsticks onto another piece of tofu to bring to his mouth. “Just by chance, Okaa-san.” He continues chewing thoughtfully. “I’m not too sure how to put it into words, really.”

 

She keeps quiet for a few more seconds before she gives in, sighing heavily. “Well, Tooru-chan is… _was_ my best friend’s son. He would have been about your age if he was still here.”

 

He stops chewing, swallowing whatever remains inside his mouth with great difficulty. His next words are guarded, because he's tentative of the truth. “Why the past tense?”

 

She smiles faintly, honest grief colouring her voice as she says: “He slipped into the lake behind the neighbourhood playground. Nobody was able to pull him out in time, and all they had left of him were his shoes.”

 

She doesn’t stop there.

 

“I think you and him would have been the best of friends if you’d been able to meet him that summer.” Her eyes glimmer ruefully. “But you were away with Otou-san for your first three years, so there’s no helping what’s already over in the past.”

 

(A tiny _oh_ curls within Hajime.)

 

He puts down his chopsticks. “Thank you for the meal, Okaa-san.”

 

His mother smiles softly this time, and reaches out to cup his cheeks. “You’re very welcome, Hajime.”

 

*

 

Finally knowing the truth behind everything doesn’t relieve Hajime of anything, but at least, he has his footing now. The next time he hears the barest of whispers calling _Hajime-chan, Hajime-chan_ , he reaches out behind him in his dreams and holds onto the empty air.

 

“I’m sorry we couldn’t be together in this life, but if you’re as stubborn as you seem to be, come find me in the next one.”

 

(Something imperceptible melts fraction by fraction.)

 

“I’ll always be waiting, Tooru.”

 

And he never hears Oikawa Tooru’s voice in his sleep again.

 

dusk arrives  
the two of us, all tired out  
hide our green-stained feet in our sneakers  
”Good shoes, good shoes”  
”These are good shoes, good shoes,” we laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and concrits are always welcomed! :D
> 
> [p.s - edited some grammar]


End file.
